The Valentine's Day Murder
by dead air space
Summary: Sherlock tries to solve a case while dealing with his new found feelings for John. Will it all end in tears?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! Me again. Decided to write another John/Sherlock story, it has a plot this time...maybe. Hope you enjoy. **

**Obviously these characters are not mine. **

* * *

'That light, eventually it will go out'

John raised his eyebrows and looked up from across the scrabble board. He was losing, Sherlock managed to get zygote on a triple word score. Bastard.

'I'm sorry'

'That light he is singing about, eventually it will go out. It's scientifically impossible for a light to last forever'

John sighed 'Sherlock, it's a song. It's metaphorical.'

'Metaphorical? For what?'

This caused John to leave his seat, storm up to the stereo and turn it off in a huff.

'If you're not going to appreciate the Smiths then we can play scrabble in silence.'

'Thank god, I'm so tired of the warbling. How can you like it John? I wish someone would put the singer out of his misery.'

John wanted to come up with a witty reply, but this was Sherlock, he had lost the argument before it had even begun, so instead he picked up the tiles and placed them on the board 'G-A-R-D-E-N' He scribbled his score down.

'It's Valentine's day tomorrow. Where are you taking Sarah?' John was quite shocked that Sherlock even knew what Valentine's day was.

'Dinner and a movie'

'Predictable'

'Yes, but seeing as our first date nearly resulted in her tragic death, sometimes predictability is a good thing.'

Sherlock simply dismissed this comment with one elegant roll of his eyes.

'I don't understand Valentine's day. People being forced to buy tacky cards and gifts. Couples desperately trying to prove how much they love each other even though most of them have been married for so long they can barely stand the sight of each other. It's such a con.'

'I know it's a con Sherlock. But some of us actually want to get laid'

* * *

The next night John took Sarah out. He deduced by the amount of aftershave John put on that he did really want to get laid. John hadn't told him the name of the restaurant where they were going; something about wanting privacy, but he had figured it out easily. John had folded the paper on a glowing review, and Lestrade had recommended it only a few weeks ago when they were on the tail of a man doing a bank robbery dressed as the deputy Prime Minister. It was an Italian place thank god. Sherlock doubted he could have coped if it was a Chinese. Chinese food was their food.

Sherlock was absentmindedly plucking on a few strings of his violin when John left. John instructed him to only text if it was a matter of life and death.

'And even if it is I will probably ignore it' he warned.

So John went out leaving Sherlock alone. Usually this didn't bother him, before John started living with him he lived in solitude. The only timed he socialised was when Lestrade needed him for a case. Now, now things were different. If he didn't know any better he would say that he missed John. This of course, was impossible. He was a sociopath, sociopaths do not miss people.

As the night drew on Sherlock tried to distract himself from the increasingly uneasy feeling he was getting. He looked at the clock, knowing John's eating habits they were probably done with the meal and waiting for the film to start. John wanted sex so he would let Sarah choose. It was probably some turgid romantic comedy. John would be bored, this made Sherlock smile.

Thinking of John made Sherlock feel happy and almost light headed. He flicked through one of his medical journal's but there was nothing interesting. He tried watching Marple but he solved the whole thing in about 5 minutes. He also deduced that two of the actors were having an affair despite being married. She was pregnant but with no idea who the father was. He wished John was here so he could have someone to tell all this to. John liked it when Sherlock deduced things like this. Sherlock knew this because he had cancelled his secret subscription to heat magazine.

He paced around the flat some more, he found one of John's jumpers, he was slightly cold so he decided to wear it. It was far too small and he would probably annoy his flat mate for stretching the thick material, but it smelt like John and this comforted him.

Drawing a target on the wall and throwing knives at the bulls eye was his next attempt to occupy himself. He could do this because it was time for Mrs Hudson's herbal soother so she would be fast asleep and he would be left in peace. Still, it wasn't half as much fun as when John was around.

There he was again, John, John, John, John. This wouldn't do. He was going to lose precious brain power. John was taking up far too much room in his head. He would have to delete things. He was wondering what he could clear out but for some reason he didn't want to. He enjoyed his memories of John. Whether they were chasing a criminal or simply sitting on the sofa watching telly. And there was other important information he would have to keep hold of. Such as remembering to make sure it was water that's in the kettle in the morning, because John liked to have tea before setting of for work. And to make sure that there was enough space in the fridge for food.

No, other things would have to go. He decided that he didn't really didn't need to know whether the earth was round. And the order of the planets wouldn't really help a future case, and someone else could remember when Christmas was.

He was debating how important it was to know the year he was born when his mind strayed again. Thinking of Sarah and John out together gave him a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. At first he thought it was something he ate but he hadn't eaten in three days.

The feeling was making his stomach tie itself in knots and he felt sick. He also felt his cheeks redden and without his knowledge his hands had clenched into fists. This was most unusual. He tried to remember the last time he had felt this way. He lay down on the sofa and rested his chin on his hands.

The last time his hands had made fists was when he wanted to punch Anderson. But this was different, this wasn't anger it was something else. The last time he remembered having this sick feeling was when Mycroft had received a new chemistry set for his birthday. Ah, so jealousy then. Hmmm what was happening that he was jealous over?

The feeling was new so the cause must have happened that very day. But nothing important had happened. The only thing he could think of was Sarah and John. Was he jealous that John had taken Sarah out? Did this mean he fancied Sarah? No that was impossible, she was boring, terribly boring. No wonder John wanted part of their date to involve sitting in silence in the dark watching other people.

So that left John. Did this mean he fancied John? Possibly, he was fun and exciting, the only man Sherlock could stand to be around for more than an hour. And he made nice cups of tea. He thought of all the time they had spent together. All the running about chasing criminals, he thought of Moriarty and the swimming pool, of the absolute terror he felt when he saw John strapped to the bomb, then John saving his life by pushing him into the swimming pool so the water absorbed the power of the blast. He thought of all the times he had cached John half dressed, coming out of the shower with a towel wrapped round his waist. His days in the army made him fit and toned. He was surprisingly lean. Not what Sherlock had expected at all.

All this thinking of half naked John had made him get what was commonly known as a hard on. Sherlock hadn't had one of those since he was a teenager and was surprised he still could. He reached down and felt his erection through his trousers. It was surprisingly nice. Especially when he imagined it was John's hand that had done the touching. He wondered if he could ignore it and hope it would go away but he decided the best plan of action was to, for once, give into his bodies wishes. He undid his trousers and began stroke his aching cock.

He closed his eyes and settled into a rhythmic rhythm, moaning John's name as he came.

So, Moriarty was right, he thought to himself. He did have a heart. Sherlock had feelings and despite numerous rumours on the contrary, was capable of love. He, Sherlock Holmes was in love with John Watson. This could not be good.

* * *

**Well, there you go. Hope you liked it**. **I'm a Smiths fan, so I decided to make John one to. :D. Oh the power of Fan Fiction. The case begins in the next chapter. I will upload that as soon as I can. **

**Reviews are love. xxx **


	2. Chapter 2

**Updated again. Thank you to everyone who read the first chapter and to the lovely reviews, you are all too kind. Big John jumper huggles to you all :D xx. Right on with the story. **

* * *

Do what he says. You might get out of this. You have to live. Just play along. For god's sake just play along. Give him what he wants. Then he will leave. He will leave and you will live. Just play along. Just play along...

* * *

Google was not Sherlock's friend. So far he had deduced that he had what was called a 'crush'. He had all the symptoms, the butterflies, the pounding heart, difficulty thinking straight, the daydreams. However what the internet could not tell him, was how to get rid of said crush. They lived together so it wasn't as if he could simply avoid John. He also had the added difficulty of John being straight and in a relationship. Then there was the high functioning sociopath part. Sherlock was not what was referred to as 'a good catch'. No one wanted to introduce their new boyfriend to the family, only for the new boyfriend to turn out to be a 6ft androgynous alien who could tell your life story by the colour of your underpants.

* * *

The sun is coming up, it's almost over. He has to leave now, tell him to leave. No wait don't. Don't anger him, stay calm. You have always been cool, calm, collected, you can do this. You can live.

* * *

Even if John did have bi sexual tendencies, and that was a very big if, he would have suppressed them long ago. His sister Harry was gay, so he would have felt pressured to be the straight sibling. Besides even if John did return his feelings they could never be in a relationship together. Love would just get in the way. He would have a weakness. A weakness criminals could use. What if they used John against him? They could threaten him, kidnap him, all sorts. They knew Sherlock wouldn't let John be hurt, so they could use him as leverage. Then there were the trivial matters. How could he concentrate on the work when he would have to use precious brain power on other things? Like making sure that John felt loved? That they went out on dates and had amazing sex. That Sherlock comforted him, listened when he had a bad day, and didn't put eyes in the microwave. No. He couldn't be the world's only consulting detective and be in a relationship, he couldn't. He would be out all day while John would be stuck at home wondering where their relationship was going.

* * *

He said he loved you. He sitting there, planning your future. Don't panic, stop panicking. He will go. Don't cry, don't cry, don't let him see you cry. Stay strong. Stick to the plan, the plan will keep you alive.

* * *

Sherlock paced around the flat. Having decided that there could never be a Sherlock and John he expected these new feeling to simply vanish. However they didn't. They hung around like a bad smell from one of his experiments. Some more internet research and he deduced that he could not control his heart. That once you fall for someone these feelings does not simply disappear. Some silly website quoted 'the heart wants what it wants' That wouldn't do. But he could get over that. After all, it was simple biology, and he managed to control all the other things. Like hunger and sleep. This was easy, it was new but it was not different.

* * *

I can't breathe. His hands on my neck, squeezing hard. Oh god I can't breathe.

* * *

But what if? What if John knew? Had sensed something? Had found out about his crush on him? John would be angry, upset, confused. He would leave. He couldn't let John leave, he was the only friend he had. The only friend he had ever had. He would have to throw John of the scent.

The amount of times John had to explain to people that their relationship was purely platonic, meant John was more aware of how their relationship was being perceived by others. If homosexuality was so blatantly referenced around them, it meant it wouldn't take much for John to start to wonder if Sherlock did want to sleep with him. While this was true, and that the idea of John, sweaty and moaning in pleasure as Sherlock moved on top of him, did excite him more than any other. John couldn't know. He must never find out. How must he convince John that Sherlock was his friend, his friend and nothing more? A thought struck him, they didn't have a very conventional friendship. They lived together and caught criminals together. This wasn't the norm. Maybe if he could prove to John that they had a typical, non romantic, manly relationship, then he would believe that there was nothing between them but friendship. There was only one thing for it. He would have to be normal. Normal. Just the word made him shudder.

* * *

Still can't breathe, oh god, I'm going to die, I'm going to die.


	3. Chapter 3

John woke up to the gentle feeling of Sarah shaking him. He rubbed his neck. Another painful night on the sofa.

'Coffee?' She asked. She was being friendly to him. Trying to act as if nothing had happened. John felt like a total dick.

'No, I think I'm just going to go home.'

'John. Please. Can we talk about this?'

'No Sarah, we can't. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's over.'

She tried pleading with him, but it was no good. He felt awful but it didn't stop him from running out of her flat. Welcoming the cool air of the London breeze of his face. He decided to walk home. He needed time to think.

When he reached 221B Baker Street John wondered what he should tell Sherlock. He knew Sherlock would grill him about his date. He could tell him that the dinner went well, which was true, they had laughed and joked and flirted outrageously. He could tell him that he let Sarah choose the movie and it was awful. He could say that they made out on the sofa like a pair of teenagers. Again true. But then, maybe he should just leave it at the part where Sarah had invited him upstairs. Not tell him that she had tried to undress him. Had touched the scar on his shoulder through his shirt. The scar, it was ugly, it was horrible. Her touching it hurt, not just physically, he brought back all the noise, all the terror he felt when he had been shot. Lying there, pleading for his life.

'Stop, please just stop' He grabbed her arms. Holding them perfectly still. It was gone, the moment was gone, and the arousal was no more. He closed his eyes and all he could see what war and death.

* * *

He walked up the stairs to the flat. Hopefully Sherlock was asleep and he could settle down with a nice cup of tea.

Sherlock bounded up to him with all the energy of a Labrador puppy. His legs were too long for his body. His usual poise and elegance was gone. He seemed jerky and on edge.

'Sherlock. Are you OK?

'Yes John, I am fine' Sherlock beamed at him. Then stopped smiling and tried to look indifferent.

'I am sound John, really sound' Ok that was weird. Not only was Sherlock using slang, but he was also trying to sound...well common. The usual silky, well spoken edge to his voice had gone.

'Would you like a beer?' he asked.

'Sherlock it's 10 in the morning!'

'Oh, tea then. I'll put the kettle on' It was at this point John noticed he clothes Sherlock was wearing. He expected Sherlock to be in his usual blue silk dressing gown, even his immaculate suit jacket and trousers. Except he wasn't. Instead he was wearing jeans and an old T shirt. And there was something else.

'Sherlock is that gel in your hair?'

'Yes, I want to impress the ladies'

'Sherlock, are you sure you are feeling alright?'

'Yes John, I'm fine. I thought we could watch the match later.'

'The match?' John raised his eyebrows.

'Yes, you know the footie'

'I thought you hated football?'

'Nonsense, it will be great, manly flatmates guys sitting on the sofa watching the footie, it's perfect. In a completely hetero way of course.'

He was going to ask Sherlock what the hell was going on when Sherlock's phone buzzed.

A couple of seconds later Sherlock was dashing about the flat pulling his coat and scarf on.

'We have a case John! A woman's has been found in Islington. Possibly strangled. Lestrade wants us there right away'

He dashed out the flat to hail down a taxi leaving John bemused. He breathed a sigh of relief, at least he didn't have to talk about his date...Yet.

* * *

**So, the game is on *cue dramatic music* Hope you like it. Review and let me know what you all think. Will Sherlock tell John his true feelings? Who murdered the woman? and will John ever get to have sex? Stay tuned to find out. :P xxxxx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Me again, here is part 4 and 5. Was going to be one part, but it was quite long so I decided to split. Hope you like. :D Again thank you to all my lovely reviews and everyone who has this on alert ****ect Love you lots and lots like jelly tots xxxxx**

* * *

'Who found her?'

'Cleaner.' Lestrade replied 'Found her this morning poor woman. Came running out of the flat screaming so one the neighbours went to see what was wrong. She was the one who called the police.'

'Have you questioned them?'

'Interviewing the neighbour now. And before you ask her story checks out. Been with her boyfriend all night.'

'And the cleaner?'

'Going to have wait on that one. Can't speak a word on English, waiting for the translator to get here. Well, I should give her enough time to calm down first she's hysterical.'

Sherlock nodded, he then started pacing around the dead woman's flat.

'Georgina Coyle. 36. Lived her for three years. Worked as a lawyer in a top firm.' Lestrade continued. 'Single. Lives alone. Must have some romantic interest though, no one's touched the scene and just look at it' Lestrade pointed to the dining table. A breakfast had been beautifully set out. Two plates, two mugs. Two sets of cutlery. There was a few remaining slices of toast and a jar of marmalade which had not been packed away. On the side there was the remains of a meal. Again two plates, and two wine glasses which contained the dregs of red wine.

'No sign of a break in. Locks in tact, not been tampered with. No broken windows. Who ever the killer was she knew him. She let him in' Sherlock filled the quiet space with his thoughts.

'So seems pretty simple, spent the night with her boyfriend and he off's her in the morning' Anderson piped in.

Sherlock marched into the dead woman's bedroom, looked around the bathroom, then opened and closed the wardrobe doors. He paced around a bit more before standing with his arms folded directly in front of Lestrade.

'She doesn't have a boyfriend'

'What? How do you know?'

'Oh come on just look at the place. She has lived her for three years and it still looks exactly the same as someone who has just moved in. It's not personal, not lived in. Its pristine, looks like a hotel room. This woman didn't go out. I looked in her wardrobe, filled to the brim with smart work clothes and nothing else. A few casual tops and that's it. She lived for her work, didn't go out. I looked in her bathroom, only one toothbrush, no male toiletries. And there is no contraception.'

'Lesbian then' Anderson retorted trying to disguise a snigger.

'Keep your fantasy's to yourself Anderson, there is no one, no one romantic in this woman's life. I can't believe you need me to tell you this, you only need to look at her underwear.'

'Her underwear?'

'Yes, look in her draws. Every single piece is built for comfort, not style. Compare that to the expensive clothes she wears. She dresses up on the outside for work, but not on the inside, so has no one to dress up for' Sherlock pulled on his scarf.

'So, it was valentine's night, reminded of being single, probably was lonely. Called up an old friend' Lestrade offered.

'That's the more likely. Where is her phone?'

'Missing.'

Sherlock raised an eyebrow 'Interesting. John? Finished?' John got up from the body which was lying on the floor of the bedroom.

'Cause of death is asphyxiation. Marks on her neck consistent with strangulation. Can't have been dead for more than two hours.' John replied.

''Well, cleaner came at nine. Puts her death at around seven.' John chipped in.

'Strangulation, indicates a man, date gone wrong theory looking quite likely. Either that or she was involved in something sinister. Got on the wrong side of the wrong people and they had her killed.' Lestrade quipped.

'She is a lawyer, its likely she had some enemies' John added.

'Where is the neighbour? I need to speak to her'

The neighbour a Miss Finch, knew nothing.

'She kept herself to herself mostly. Never really spoke to her, her flat was opposite mine, we bumped into each other occasionally but that was about it. Knew no one who would want to kill her. I was out last night for valentine's night with my partner. Came back late heard nothing, woke up this morning by the cleaning lady screaming. Couldn't make out what she was saying. Doesn't speak English you see. But she left Miss Coyle's door open. Went inside, found the body and rung the police.

Finally the translator came. George Sparks. The cleaner, when she had finished her second mug of sweet tea, and calmed down enough to talk. Again, she knew nothing new. She was simply employed by Miss Coyle to keep her flat tidy. She came in and found Miss Coyle dead.

Sherlock grew tired of this and left the scene quickly, as usual leaving John running after him. He ran out onto the street just as Sherlock was hailing a cab.

'You wanna watch yourself' It was George Sparks, the translator, he was having a sneaky puff of a cigarette.

'I'm sorry'

'Sherlock Holmes, I've heard a lot about him, working with the police and all. I said you want to watch out for yourself. The man obviously doesn't appreciate what he has'

'John! Come on man stop wasting time' Sherlock called after him. George Sparks raised his eyes in a 'see, told you so gesture' John simply nodded and followed Sherlock into the cab.

They went to her workplace. They found nothing. Everyone said the same thing. That she worked too much. Barely went out. She had a few friends but, no one she was especially close to. The woman was the last person they would expect to be at the centre of a murder investigation

* * *

Returning to 221B John stuck the kettle on. Sherlock sat in the sofa, still with his coat and shoes on.

'You dumped Sarah'

'I was wondering when you were going to ask that. Was expecting you to ask this morning, luckily Lestrade's timing was impeccable as always. Come on, I know you want to show of...'

'You came back and ten in the morning. You had no work at the surgery, and you didn't know there would be a case. I figured you had broken up. I knew you dumped her because you came out on the case with me, if she had dumped you, you would have stayed home and sulked.'

'Right as always.'

'What happened?'

'I don't want to talk about it. I know you have probably deduced it all already, because you're a genius. In fact I wish you would have told me sooner, saved me the bother.'

'You're angry at me'

'No Sherlock, I'm not angry at you I'm...You know what forget it. I'm not going to spend my evening explaining to you how to be a human being. I've had a long day, I'm going to my room. Goodnight'

* * *

John was angry. 'I'm not going to spend my evening explaining to you how to be a human being' These words rung in his ears. It was true he couldn't expect John to believe he was normal in one day. Hmmm he would have to carry on. He couldn't give up. He couldn't lose John.

Georgina Coyle prayed on his mind all night. She was, by all accounts an ordinary woman. Sure, she had no personal relationships and spent every waking moment working, but for Sherlock, this was ordinary. He had spent the entire day in her world. In her flat, going to her office. Nothing. It should have been a simple case, except it wasn't. Lestrade called later and told him the killer left no trace, no one knew him except the victim. Something was wrong, he couldn't place his finger on it. The case was simple, he knew the answer was staring straight at him.

John, It was all John's fault. All this crazy crushing he was doing, John was clouding up his brain. Dam him. He couldn't think because of this silly infatuation. If it wasn't for John he would have solved the case by now. And there was another feeling he had to experience in this great big rollercoaster that was called being human. John dumped Sarah, something happened the night of the date. He was so keen when he had left. Normally he would be trying to figure out what that something was. Not this time. John Watson was single. This made him...happy. He knew that John would never be his. So the next best thing was to know that John didn't belong to anyone else.

How did his heart work exactly. He knew how it worked, all the veins and muscles and chambers. But how did he control it? Make it do what he asked? It was no good. If anything he was more in love with John than ever. This wouldn't do. He was just going to have to try harder.


	5. Chapter 5

John woke up early the next morning. He found Sherlock exactly where he had left him. He was even wearing the coat and scarf.

'Going to get your things from the surgery? Nice that you have decided to become unemployed John. We will be behind on the rent. But at least I won't be without my blogger all day.'

John set about making tea.

'Been up all night figuring that out?'

'Pfft Please I figured that out in no time'

'Then what have you been doing all night?'

'The phone John, where is the phone?'

* * *

John drank his tea and left. Sherlock estimated he had about an hour. An hour Now John didn't have a job he would be around more. That meant there was more chance of him stumbling on the truth. No doubt, knowing John, he would stumble. The deducing was his area of expertise. He also wondered why John would not tell him why Sarah and he and ceased their relationship. He now knew it was about his wound that he got in Afghanistan. In the night he remembered John was absentmindedly rubbing it through his shirt, as he told Sherlock that 'they were better of as friends'. Why would John be ashamed of his scar? The wound showed bravery and courage. John joined the army, he wanted people to think of him as brave. So Sherlock left the flat, his mind still buzzing with questions.

* * *

While John collected his belongings from the surgery Sarah begged him to stay.

'You're a fantastic doctor John, don't leave because of me'

He had to leave. He couldn't stay, every time coming to work, seeing Sarah, remembering. He still remembered that night. Still chewed up his guts. He hated feeling this way. If tried so hard to let go of the war. To leave everything behind. But the scar was a permanent reminder of everything he had been through. He hated that he couldn't show Sarah his scar. Or that he couldn't forget about the war long enough to have sex.

John returned to 221B with the cardboard box of his things under his arms. He expected Sherlock to be away, working on the new case except he wasn't.

'Ah John your back' Sherlock bounded up to him. He was clutching a bag of haribo. Judging by the way he was buzzing about the flat he had eaten a lot of them.

'Novelty shaped gelatine based sweet?' Sherlock felt very smug, John was always complaining that Sherlock never did any shopping.

'Erm ok'

I went to the shop and they had an offer, I could have double the quantity for the same price'

'Er Sherlock how much did you buy'

'Ten packets. You never know when we will trapped in the flat.'

Sherlock reached into the bag and pulled out a red heart, wait he couldn't give John a heart, hearts represented love. John couldn't know about the love thing. He threw the heart across the flat and it somehow landed in the kitchen sink. Next he pulled out a ring. Wait, would John think Sherlock was proposing? That's why people usually gave each other rings.

'Here you go' He gave John something in the shape of an egg. Eggs were fine, John would simply think he was referencing breakfast.

'Why did you go to the shop Sherlock?' John was confused, Sherlock never went shopping.

'Well, seeing as you have been dumped' He made air quotes with his fingers while saying dumped. 'I thought I should be a good friend and cheer you up'

'I dumped her' John corrected him.

'Oh, does that matter?' Sherlock raised an eyebrow in confusion.

John shook his head, he couldn't be bothered to explain.

'You thought sweets would cheer me up? Sherlock I am not five years old'

'Oh no, I bought a DVD, I thought we could watch it'

John was quite shocked, seeing as Sherlock's vision of fun involved dead bodies and chasing, a DVD seemed relatively...normal. Yet it still didn't explain why Sherlock had been behaving like a complete lunatic all of a sudden. John simply decided the best thing to do was to simply go with the flow.

Sherlock held up the DVD. 'Die hard, I thought you would like it John. It's very manly, it has guns and fighting and everything. Great for two men like us' He punched John lightly on the arm and ran to the DVD player.

They watched the film in relatively silence. The only noise was the rustling as they ate the sweets.

'Sherlock'

'Yes'

'Stop giving me gummy bears and eggs, are there any hearts left?'

'Heats! You want a heart?'

'Yes they are my favourite'

* * *

The film ended, the credits rolled and Sherlock turned the DVD of.

'Well, happier?'

John giggled. 'A little bit Sherlock'

'Good' He the bounded up to the stereo. He started play 'There is a light that never goes out'

'Sherlock I thought you hated the Smiths?'

'Yes John I do, but you like them. And I want to cheer you up. Come here' He grabbed

_Take me out tonight _Morrissey began to croon.

'Come on John, let's dance people like to dance and my mother taught me the waltz' John guessed it was all the sugar. Sherlock grabbed him and began to twirl them both about.

_Where's there's music and there's people and there young and alive._

'I'm leading John follow me' Sherlock held John's waist with and clasped there hand together. He held John in a very tight grip and used all his body force to swing them about the flat.

_Driving in your car. I never never want to go home. Because I haven't got one. Anymore._

'Sherlock!' John yelled over the music

_Take me out tonight. Because I want to see people and I want to see life_

Sherlock didn't stop. In fact he had more energy than ever.

'1...2...3...4. You are doing very well John. Watch where you put your feet'

_Driving in your car. Oh please don't drop me home. Because it's not my home it's their home and I'm welcome no more_

John burst out laughing, he couldn't stop. 'Sherlock!' He cried again, he hadn't laughed so hard in ages. he suddenly felt very very dizzy. Sherlock collided with the sofa and tripped up over John's legs, they fell down together, causing John to laugh even more.

_And if a double decker bus crashes into us. To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die._

Sherlock used his arm to prop himself up and found himself leaning over John. He stopped and stared for a moment. His face was flushed and red from laughing. His mouth was open. It looked so inviting. He was smiling, then he stopped and stared at Sherlock intensely. His pupils dilated, his breath became shallow. Sherlock wanted so badly to close the gap between them and kiss John, listening to John's shallow breath, looking into his eyes. Did John want it to? John wanted a heart earlier, maybe it was his way of saying that he had a crush to. John's face was suddenly getting bigger, closing the gap between them. John was going to kiss him. He closed his eyes and waited for the taste of John's mouth against his. How do you kiss, he didn't know. He would have to copy whatever John did.

His phone buzzed. John sighed and lay down as Sherlock dug it out of his pocket.

'It's Lestrade. There has been another murder'

* * *

**Errr yes. I am going to leave it there. Will update soon. :D. Let me know what you think. Though I think I have a feeling what you are all going to say...**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello my lovelies. Sorry this took a while to update, been very busy. Went to an Arcade Fire concert on Wednesday which was amazing. If you saw a very lost, cold looking girl wondering about the capital it was probably me :P**

**Thank you again for your lovely comments and reviews. I don't deserve you all, novelty shaped, gelatine based sweets for the lot of you. Hope the chapters don't disappoint. xxxxxx**

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They caught a taxi to Hackney where the body had been found. John's mind was racing, he was trying to come to terms with what had happened. To put it in some sort of logical order. It was all so quick. One minute they were watching a DVD, the next they were dancing around like idiots, then...

Sherlock had been acting so weirdly lately maybe his strange behaviour had rubbed off on him. Why did he try to kiss him? This was Sherlock for crying out loud. His mad, genius, mental flatmate. Everyone assumed he was gay, maybe it was the clothes, or the voice, but John wondered if Sherlock even had a sexuality.

As for John well, he was always so sure he was straight, yet there he was, lying on the floor about to snog Sherlock, a man. Yet. He had always wondered, about that side of himself, that side that wondered what it was like to be with a man. He put it down to simply being a curious youth, and after Harry came out he felt pressured by his parents to be the straight one.

It was a curious moment, dancing with Sherlock around the flat, laughing hard, their bodies pressed together. For a few moments he forgot everything, forgot the war, and the pain in his shoulder, he even forgot himself. He had never felt like that before. It was like being drunk. That feeling pumping round his body, a feeling that he could take on the entire world. When they fell over, and he was staring into his flatmates grey eyes, he had never felt anything like it. In that split second he wanted Sherlock. Wanted to taste him, to feel him on him. He had never wanted anything more. Thank god Lestrade had rung just at that very moment or god knows what they would be doing right now. If his body had its way he would be fucking Sherlock senseless right now. Instead they were on their way to a crime scene.

He hoped it would be forgotten about. However seeing as it was Sherlock, his every move and motive would be dissected. All he could hope for was that this case would keep him interested for long enough. Investigating a dead body or discussing why they almost kissed, John knew which one Sherlock would want to spend his energy on. Or at least, he hoped he did.

* * *

'According to the neighbour downstairs her name is Catalina Lopez. She's over here illegally. Doing odd jobs as a cleaner. She was found strangled by her friend when she didn't turn up for work. No sign of a break in. That's about all we know' Lestrade informed them.

'She looks familiar' John asked as Sherlock looked around the bedsit. It was tiny and smelt of damp. There was very little furniture, only a bed and a small kitchen.

'Not surprised, remember the cleaner we interviewed when we found Miss Coyle. It's her'

John raised his eyebrows. 'Maybe she remembered something, was killed to keep her quiet'

'It's very likely. Probably in the wrong place at the wrong time. Look, I'm going to be honest here, we have nothing on the Coyle case, no leads or anything, the papers are already running stories about our incompetence. If you have any ideas. Anything, I need them' Lestrade threw his hands up in the air.

Sherlock looked around the flat, he came back to where John and Lestrade were standing. 'Lived alone, only one toothbrush. Came over here illegally, think it's her ticket to a new life and ends up living in Hackney working for below the minimum wage. Tragic really, John's right she obviously knew something.'

Sherlock pulled out his phone and sent a quick text.

'Sorry must dash. John I'll meet you back at the flat'

* * *

Sherlock stayed out all day, god knows where he was, but John had gotten used to this. So he spent the rest of the day watching crap telly. Mrs Hudson invited him for a cuppa which turned in to three. He couldn't refuse, he had to stay in her good books or else the unpaid rent would cause problems. Besides, John enjoyed hearing the latest gossip. He was doing the crossword when she handed him a slice of fruit cake.

'Besotted'

'Sorry?'

'Eight down. Strong infatuation, eight letters, answer is besotted. Eat your cake up dear'

John scribbled the word in and continued to chew the lid of his pen.

'Speaking of besotted'

John slammed his pen down with a little more force then he intended. 'How many times do I have to explain, Sherlock and I are flatmates nothing else, our relationship is purely platonic.'

'I actually meant Mrs Turner. Been caught having an affair, awful business. But now you mention you and Sherlock. You should see the way he looks at you. And he needs someone like you in his life'

'Honestly, I am not gay, I like girls, and I certainly do not want a relationship with him. Besides even if I was gay, which I am not, Sherlock is not good boyfriend material.'

'Oh come on give him a chance.'

* * *

John left soon after, the way Mrs Hudson was going on, she probably had the wedding china picked out, the honeymoon booked and a list of possible kids names. And yet. God he couldn't believe he was thinking this. But the more he tried to convince others he had no feelings for Sherlock, the less believable he sounded. Everyone seemed to think they were made for each other. Maybe an ex army doctor and the world's only consulting detective were a good match? Did he have a crush on Sherlock? This could not be good.

John made tea, enough for two just in case it was one of those very rare occurrences when Sherlock decided to eat something. He ate the risotto in front of the TV. He thought of waiting for Sherlock to get home, but it was gone midnight so he gave up and went to bed.


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock sat in his armchair contemplating the latest developments in the case. It was early in the morning and John was in bed. In fact, everyone was in bed. London was at a standstill. Even the drunks and addicts had long since succumbed to sleep. It felt so eerie yet Sherlock enjoyed this time more than any other. Everything felt so peaceful and still, he could think. No distractions, just him and his thoughts. The sun was just coming up so there was a cold blue tinge to the room seeping in through the gaps in the curtains.

It was then that he heard it. It started as a faint whimpering sound coming from John's room, then it grew louder and louder.

'Help me. Someone. Please' It was a desperate voice. It was John's voice. Sherlock immediately ran across the flat. His heart was in his mouth. Millions of possibilities were flashing across his overactive brain, none of them were good. Was he hurt? Was he alright?

Normally he didn't venture into John's room. He knew that his flatmate wanted space whenever he came in here, and Sherlock knew better then to disturb him. But John was yelling for help. He needed him. He opened the door and found John sprawled on his bed, lying there is his pyjamas. He had kicked of the duvet and looked as if he had had a fight with the bed sheets.

'No, don't leave me, someone help me, I don't want to die' he cried out.

He was sweating, yet had his eyes clothes. Sherlock immediately knew he was having a nightmare. He wasn't sure what the correct medical procedure was. But he hated to see John in pain, so he shook him gently.

'John, wake up, John it's ok I'm here now, you are going to be alright'

John took a few seconds to wake up, however he thought he was still dreaming, he was so startled that he thought he was under attack so, in true solider mode he clenched his fist and then punched Sherlock.

Sherlock stumbled backwards clutching his nose. He smelt blood, then felt a warm trickle fall down his face.

'Sherlock, oh god I'm so sorry are you ok?' Sherlock held his nose. He began to feel lightheaded. He closed his eyes and felt faint he sat on the edge of the bed trying to compose himself. He heard John run to the bathroom. Next thing he knew John was standing over him mopping up blood.

'You were having a bad dream'

'I know. It was so real Sherlock. I thought I was back in Afghanistan.' He held the tissue in place and the bleeding began to subside.

'Oh god I'm so sorry'.

'It's fine. It's all fine.'

Sherlock tried not to stare at John, with his bed hair and in his boxers. He had an old t shirt on which was slightly crumpled. After the initial panic was over and they had both calmed down, John pulled a dressing gown on.

'I doubt I can sleep now. I'm going to make some tea. Would you like some?'

Sherlock nodded.

'Right stay here'

John left leaving Sherlock at the bottom of his bed. Sherlock sat in silence. Using the the time to stare around John's room. Minimalist design, hardly any furniture. Incredibly tidy. No dust anywhere, old army habits, it made a sharp contrast to Sherlock's room, which was the very definition of organised chaos. Case files and old cups of tea littered the space. His bed wasn't made despite never being slept in. An experiment or two.

John's bed sheets smelt of the same generic washing powder that his clothes did. There was another smell, one that was purely John. It was unique. It was of a mixture cold London air and 221B and something purely John. Of soap and his aftershave. He placed a hand on the middle of the bed where the springs had begun to sag. John had slept here. John. God he wanted John. God he loved John. He wanted to shrink himself down, nestle amongst John's sheets and his smell. And have John come in the dead of night and lie with him. He wanted to watch him breath and sleep, and chase away the nightmares.

John came back with two steaming mugs of tea in his hands. He looked ill, like he had aged twenty years in one evening. He sat hunched up next to Sherlock on his bed. He looked so small, like a child who had stayed out to long and now could not find the way home.

'You must think I'm so stupid. Going on about how much I love danger, yet at the same time having nightmares.'

'No. It's who you are John. You know you remind me of a case I once had. There was a girl, her boyfriend went to prison for domestic violence. She found another man yet hated being with him, hated that he treated her well. She found him boring. So when her ex came out of prison she went back to him. Despite him being violent she couldn't leave him. In the end she was killed by him. She couldn't let him go, despite all he did to her, just like you can't let go of the war, just like you need the war even after all it did to you'

They sat there, drinking the tea. John let out a small sigh.

'I was remembering when I was shot, lying on the ground thinking I was going to die. I think about it a lot. I don't understand why.'

'You are solider, it's who you are. You cannot change that. You needed the army, always have done, now it's gone and you cannot handle the real world. You are tortured by the nightmares yet you need to go back. Everyone is haunted by bad dreams John, they do not change us. A dog could go and bite a child, it could feel incredibly guilty that it bit, could be punished by its master and never do wrong again, it could even dream about the attack, yet it will never change the fact it is a dog. You are an army boy John, no amount of bullet wounds will change this.'

Sherlock drank the rest of his tea. 'You need sleep'

John nodded, placing his mug on his bedside table. He lay down on the bed and pulled the duvet over him, he was too tired to re arrange the sheets. 'Let me guess, you need be bright eyed a busy tailed for tomorrow?'

Sherlock nodded, 'Where would I be without my blogger?'

'Any theories yet?'

Sherlock smiled 'Maybe'

'Sherlock. Could you stay with me? Just till I fall asleep?' John sounded so meek and helpless that Sherlock wanted to give him a hug, which was weird, Sherlock didn't do hugging. He found any sort of bodily contact tedious and unnecessary. He lay on top of the duvet as John turned off the light.

'Don't tell anyone mind. I will never live this down'

'Your secret is safe with me.'

'Sherlock. You need to sleep. You haven't slept in three days'

'Four actually'

Even in the dark Sherlock felt John's eyes roll.

'Just try. For me'

John fell asleep pretty quickly. Sherlock wanted to think but he couldn't. Any brain power he had was being used taking in the sight of John sleeping. His pulse rate, his breathing, John had poured into his mind and took up all available space. Sherlock was on his back John sleeping on his side facing him. It was a double bed so both were comfortable. Sherlock brushed a stray hair out of John's eyes and let his finger trace his cheek. He was in a deep sleep, Sherlock could tell by his breathing. Maybe if he was gentle and quick...He leaned forward and lightly kissed John's forehead. His skin was soft and warm so he let his mouth linger. John lightly stirred and Sherlock immediately moved back.

'mmmmm' Was the only noise John made. There was a pause and John didn't move, or ask him what he was doing, he wondered if he had got away with it.

'Still awake?' John broke the silence.

'Yes'

John sighed again, he moved closer, he reached out an arm. He felt John's hand cup his cheek and rub his thumb along Sherlock's bottom lip. Sherlock moaned quietly and turned his head, he felt John's lips come into contact with his own. It was a small, quick chaste kiss yet Sherlock treasured the taste of John. John pulled away and Sherlock immediately mourned the loss of contact. There was a long pause filled with longing and want.

'Sherlock, if I kiss you again. Properly this time. Will you promise to go to sleep?'

'Yes.' Sherlock felt his heart race, he was about to kiss for the first time. And it was John. He hoped John didn't think he was a bad kisser.

'I have never kissed anyone properly before. I might be bad at it'

John laughed 'Your Sherlock Holmes, you risk your life to prove you're clever. I thoroughly doubt you are bad at anything.'

Sherlock leaned forward found John's mouth again. It started off like the first one did, their lips lightly touching, but then it deepened. Sherlock moved his head to the side to allow John better access to his mouth. They moved their mouth together and Sherlock let out another small moan. He felt John's tongue slightly brush his lip and almost without thinking he opened his mouth. Feeling John's tongue explore his mouth was the single greatest experience of his life. It felt like a rush, like chasing criminals only better. John began to rub his hands through Sherlock's curls. The kiss carried on like this till they both stopped to catch their breaths.

Laying is head on Sherlock's chest and his arm over his waist. John settled down to sleep. Sherlock slipped his arm around John's neck and began to run his hand through his hair. Sherlock felt very strange, he had never slept with someone lying on him before. Yet it was a good strange. It was a feeling that John should have always had been there.

John fell asleep at his side. Sherlock watched him before keeping his promise and going to sleep himself.


	8. Chapter 8

**New Chapter, it was a pain to write so I hope you like it. :) Italics mean its an internal monologue. If this chapter makes no sense please let me know! Much love xxxx**

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'You won't get away with this'

'I've got away with two already. What makes you think you will be any different?'

'Please, please let me go. Just unlock the door and go. I wont tell anyone. The police or anyone. Please just let me live'

'I'm sorry, but I can't. You see I have to. I have to watch you die. I'll be quick, I promise.'

* * *

John woke up first. He was still wrapped up in Sherlock, in the night his leg had slipped in between Sherlock's legs and his head was nestled in the crook of his neck. Sherlock had kept his promise and was fast asleep. After four days of being on the go, John decided it was best not to wake him. As gently as he could he slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom. He rubbed a finger over his bottom lip, he could still taste Sherlock. He set about brushing his teeth and decided to have a shower.

He let the warm water fall over him, he knew today was going to be hell. Sherlock was not even awake and he could already feel the awkwardness. They had kissed last night, there was no getting away from it. He had two options, pretend that nothing had happened and hope it would go away. Or confront Sherlock. Because he was English, the first option was the most inviting. But ignoring the kiss would mean that any chance he had with Sherlock would be gone. There were so many new aspects to this relationship he would have to get his head around. The first, was that Sherlock was a man. The second was that Sherlock was, well Sherlock. The man had never been in a relationship before. Would know how to behave, wouldn't know any of the unwritten rules. Was Sherlock even capable of being in love? And if it all went wrong, he would have to move out, and he have to stop this crazy new life he had found, he would miss it.

He could always find Sarah, try and make another go of it. But he wanted Sherlock, he was just going to have to throw caution to the wind and go for it. Should he carry on with the way things are, or should he take this new opportunity?

Still no clearer on what he has going to do he made his way to the kitchen and turned the kettle on. He put some bread in the toaster. He didn't hear Sherlock behind him.

'Morning' John jumped.

'Sorry I didn't see you there. Would you like some breakfast?'

'Some tea would be great. No food though, digestion slows me down and we have a busy day ahead of us. I'm going to have a shower and get dressed' Sherlock left.

_He hasn't said anything. Oh god am I going to do now? He just went off. Didn't even mention it_.

_He left me in bed this morning, went off to have a shower. Didn't want to see me, maybe he wanted to wash me away. Maybe he could still sense me on him. _

He heard the shower go. John's toast popped, he buttered it and then sat about eating it while flicking through yesterdays paper. When he had finished he boiled the kettle and made Sherlock a cuppa, just in time for Sherlock to come in fully washed and dressed.

'Here's your tea' John handed him the mug. _Don't stare at him. God he is beautiful. How come I have never realised that before? Stop staring, close your mouth. Jesus you are not fifteen. He doesn't want you. You are ordinary and he is not. _

'Thanks' Sherlock took the mug. _He's not even looking at you. You disgust him. He is embarrassed about last night. Maybe you will lose him after all._

'So what's the plan for today Sherlock?' _That's right, change the subject, move on. _

'Yesterday I found out a few things about Miss Coyle. I realised that because she did nothing but work, it must somehow be connected, like you said she was a lawyer, so she is bound to have some enemies' _See, he is subject changing. Obviously doesn't want to discuss what happened. _

'Ok. Find anything in particular?'

'Yes there is a man called Peter Adams, she was working on a case, a human trafficking ring that been discovered. They sent a lot of people to jail apart from him. She had become obsessed, knew he was involved somehow. But there was no evidence on him. She wouldn't let it go' _God he is beautiful. _

'So maybe she had got too close for comfort, he was worried she would discover the truth so had her killed' _Imagine what we could be doing right now. I wonder what he looks like naked. I could bend him over and..and...he's a virgin. I could be the first person to ever fuck him. No, fuck is such an aggressive word. I don't want his first time to be like that. Make love to him. That's better. I could make him moan. Jesus why am I even thinking about this? He doesn't want you. Just drop it. Stop thinking about him. Oh no I'm getting hard. Shit. Turn around he can't see it. Turn around. _

'Seems that way, thought we could pay him a visit. First we need to go to Scotland Yard' _Why has he turned around? He can't even bare to look at me. Just forget about him. Think about the case. _

'And the cleaner?'

'That I'm still working on. Come on lets go'

_God I want him._

_God I want him_

They left the flat and Sherlock used his almost magical cab finding powers. They were in a back of a taxi within minutes heading to Scotland Yard.

John stared out the window, he didn't want to look at his flatmate. God knows what was happening, god knows what he should do.

_He's looking out the window, again he can't even bare to look at you. No wonder, why would anyone look at you. John is straight, he is straight, you need to get over this stupid infatuation. The case, focus on the case. _

_I need to do something, Sherlock, I want Sherlock, maybe he wants me to. I need to find out. Maybe I should ask him? _

John opened his mouth but no words came out.

_Great, I have lost the power of speech. Okay John don't panic, think of something. Actions speak louder than words. Maybe I should try and kiss him. Is that too foreword. Maybe. _

John moved his hand from his knee and, sick with nerves, moved it across the cab. He placed it on Sherlock's knee. He wondered if Sherlock would immediately pull away, but he sat very still. It was such a simple movement yet there was such weight behind it. What felt like an eternity passed. John wondered if he had made a huge mistake, he was about to move his hand away when Sherlock placed his hand over John's and linked their fingers together.

They turned their heads to look at each other. John smiled weakly. Staring into each other's eyes they knew they would never be the same again.

'John'

'Yes'

'Can I kiss you?'

John nodded, Sherlock reached out an arm and cupped his cheek, he pulled him closer and their lips came together. Sherlock remembered the taste of John and savoured it. Breathing him in. John was kissing back running his hands along Sherlock's neck and hair. He felt Sherlock's tongue run along his lip, it made him shudder with pleasure. He opened his mouth to let Sherlock in. They were both fighting for dominance, it was all tongues and teeth and spit. It looked almost brutal. Sherlock pulled his tongue out and gently nibbled on John's bottom lip. He was getting good at kissing now. He knew this because John was letting out small moans from the back of his throat. Sherlock wanted nothing more than this.

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**Reviews mean more John and Sherlock snoggage! :P Hope that was ok xxx**


	9. Chapter 9

One Message received. Today. 10:45 To Sherlock Homes. Welcome to the human race brother MH

One message received. Today. 10:45. To John Watson. Take good care of him. MH

* * *

'I thought we were heading to Scotland Yard?'

Sherlock shrugged as they pulled up outside a building of expensive looking flats. The building was an old converted warehouse. Who ever lived here had money.

'Changed my mind. I know who killed Miss Coyle and Miss Lopez. I need proof or Lestrade will ignore me'. Sherlock paid the taxi driver who smirked at John. Having spent the entire taxi journey snogging as if their lives depended on it, John wasn't surprised. The man had obviously had a good view.

'When I was at Miss Coyle's office one name kept coming up. Peter Adams.'

'The human trafficking guy, I thought there was no evidence...'

'Georgina Coyle thought there was. The ring was smuggling girls into this country from Eastern Europe. They were discovered, the ring was disbanded, many people arrested, except for Adam's. They didn't have enough on him.'

'And what does Coyle have to do with any of this?'

'She was one of the lawyers on the case. She knew he was involved somehow. She became obsessed with convicting him. Her office, went there yesterday, had another look round, his name is everywhere, she played her own detective. Old case files, reports, everything'

'So, you think she found something and was killed so she was kept quiet?'

Sherlock nodded. 'Thought we would pay him a visit, come on.' Sherlock ran up to the door of the building.

'We can't do that! Sherlock you don't just turn up at his doorstop. He could be dangerous'

'Lestrade won't believe me unless I have proof' Sherlock rang the bell.

'Sherlock!'

'Hello' a woman's voice answered.

'Hi, it's Elliot Green we spoke on the phone. I'm here to see Mr Adams. I have an appointment '

There was a pause. Then they were buzzed through. Sherlock strode in and John had to run to keep up.

'I'm sorry, who is Elliot Green? Sherlock what's going on?'

'Just play along'.

He knocked at the door. They were greeted by a small woman who led them through to a smart sitting room.

'He will be with you in a second'

Sherlock smiled. 'Thank you'

Peter Adams was a man in his mid forties, he wore a smart suit, he was also small and round, even John towered over him. John took an immediate dislike to him. He wasn't sure if it was the rumours of his profession or something else. But he made John feel uncomfortable.

'Mr Green' he shook Sherlock's hand profusely. 'Pleasure to meet you; I've heard a lot about you from Sam'

'All good I hope. This is a friend of mine, Carl Smith' He pointed a hand at John.

Adams laughed and took John's hand. He sat behind his desk and gestured to two seats in front of it. It was all so cosy.

'Would you like a drink? Tea...Coffee...something stronger?'

'Tea would be great thanks'

Adam's pressed a button under his desk and the woman appeared 'Three tea's' she nodded and left. John watched as the pair engaged in small talk as if they were old friends. John couldn't believe Sherlock could be so comfortable around a possible murderer. The woman appeared and the tea was given.

'Sam sends his regard, I'm afraid he couldn't make it today which is why it's just us.'

'Right, well let's get down to business then. Sam told me about the Soho business.'

Sherlock smirked. 'That was a close call, luckily we managed to get out of it. Setting up another place, Edinburgh this time, bored of London aren't we Carl'

John nodded.

'I heard the police busted you. Thought that was it. Still can't believe you got away with it.'

'Neither can I. Thank god for Sam's quick thinking and expensive lawyers eh. Closest I've ever come to the inside of a jail cell, but of course, you would know all about that' John almost choked on his tea.

Adam's laughed and tapped his nose with his index finger. 'That was close Green. Too close. Luckily I managed to get out of that one'

'Must have been hard, especially with that lawyer on your case. What was her name again? Cole was it?'

'Coyle. Luckily I don't have to worry about her anymore. Read in the paper yesterday, murdered'

'Murdered'

'Yep. Someone decided to do me a favour and bumped her of' Adam's winked and John felt his skin crawl.

'How very lucky for you' Sherlock reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a brown envelope. He handed it to Adam's who looked inside.

'We need five by Friday, do you think you could manage that?'

'Of course, when have I ever let you down' He laughed. 'Usual time and place?'

Sherlock nodded. 'Sam gets back on Friday so he will be there. You'll get the other half when he is happy'

'Fair enough. Where is he anyway?'

'Paris with the misses, Valentine's day treat. Did you get up to anything interesting? Elaine looks like the type of woman who would keep a man busy'

'Afraid I was otherwise occupied. Better think of a way to make it up to her'

'Something expensive would do.' We best be of. Sherlock stood up. John followed him.

'Pleasure doing business with you'

* * *

John felt the cool London air hit his face. He had never been so grateful to be outside in his whole life. He ran after Sherlock who was already halfway down the street. Sherlock grabbed John's hand a led him into a small ally way. Before he knew what was going on he felt Sherlock push him up against a wall and their lips crash together. His hands were everywhere, not that John was complaining. John pushed his tongue in and felt Sherlock go weak at the knees. Sherlock pulled away and they both stood their panting.

'Ok, do you mind telling me what that was all about?'

'I thought you liked me kissing you.' He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

'No Sherlock, of course I like that. I mean what the hell just happened in the flat, who is Sam? And Elliot Green? Mind filling me in'

'I needed to visit Adam's. Couldn't tell him I was with the police, no he is too clever for that, how else could he evade capture for so long. I needed a story. Sam is a friend of mine, managed to get him of a murder conviction and he owed me a favour. Rang him a few days ago, his was due to meet Adam's with his partner, Elliot Green, Adam's and Green have never met before so I could easily take his place'

Sherlock started to work on John's neck, kissing and nipping at the exposed skin. John groaned.

'But why?'

Sherlock stood upright, framing John's face with his hands.

'Don't you see John, were you not listening when he was speaking to us? He did it, I know he did. I have enough at least to get him in for questioning. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tape recorder.

'See.' He waved it in John's face. He then kissed John on the lips again before running of towards a taxi. John felt flushed, he straightened out his clothes and followed.


	10. Chapter 10

**This chapter is to justify the M rating. After making you wait 10 chapters I hope it doesn't disappoint. ;P xxx**

* * *

'Well'

Sherlock hovered over Lestrade. John sat down on desk chair sipping on the terrible yard coffee.

'You seem pretty certain it's him.'

'Of course I am. Woman tries to send a dangerous criminal to jail, ends up getting murdered. It's a logical conclusion.'

'What makes you so sure' John asked. Sherlock just raised an eyebrow in annoyance.

'Sorry, I forgot, you're Sherlock Holmes.' John shrugged. Lestrade hid a smirk.

'And Lopez?'

'Blackmail'

'What!' Lestrade and John said in unison.

'Sherlock there is no proof she was blackmailing anyone'

'What proof do you need?' Sherlock threw his hands in the air. 'Look, she came here illegally, she was killed so it's obvious she knew something, but didn't go to the police, she was scared that they would deport her. You saw her flat, saw how desperate her situation was. Must have thought she could get some money out of him. Thought she could sell her silence. He has murdered once, he is quite capable of murdering again.'

'So what now' John asked.

'We wait till Friday. I've set up a swap with a friend of mine. Be at this address at this time' He handed Lestrade a piece of paper.

'Wait a minute, you bought some girls?' John asked him, so that's what the brown envelope was for.

Sherlock nodded. 'It's the least we can do. If we can't charge him for murder at least we can get him for trafficking. Then Georgina Coyle will not have died for nothing' There was a note of sadness in his voice which neither Lestrade or John were expecting.

'Since when do you care about the victim?'

'I don't normally, but this time, she died trying to prove something, I feel an affinity with her I guess'

* * *

Sherlock bounded up the stairs of 221B. John followed quietly behind. They both entered the flat and took of their coats and scarves, discarding them on the chairs. Sherlock turned on the fire, it was freezing in the flat.

'Another case solved then'

'I guess.' Sherlock next to him and nuzzled his neck. Kissing his neck and running his tongue along the marks he had made earlier that day.

They kissed deeply. John stroked Sherlock's cheek and then wrapped his hand round his neck and played with his curls. Sherlock used his body weight to push John onto the sofa. They started to kiss again limbs entwining , tongues dancing. Then Sherlock felt a hard lump press into his leg.

Sherlock suddenly felt very sick. He knew John wanted sex, but he was a virgin. He didn't know how. He knew everything yet he didn't know how to make a man come. Of course he knew what sex was, what it involved, but he didn't know how it felt. The actions looked brutal, almost violent. What if it hurt? Would he like it? Would John?

John felt Sherlock freeze as his erection rubbed into his leg. He stopped kissing and stroked Sherlock's hair.

'It's ok. We don't have to do anything. I won hurt you, I promise'

John kissed Sherlock reassuringly. Sherlock closed his eyes and kissed John.

'Can we take it slow?' John nodded. Sherlock slipped his hands under John's jumper and tugged at the material. It got caught on his head and John had to take it of himself, they both giggled out of nervousness. He went back to kissing John, exploring his mouth while unbuttoning his shirt buttons. That was discarded alongside the jumper. Sherlock tried to slip his hands under John's T shirt but John caught his hands and shook his head. Sherlock understood and instead put his hands on John's waist.

Sherlock awkwardly and with shaking fingers undid John's belt and jean's. John slipped them over his hips and pulled them down his legs then over his feet. Sherlock ran a hand up the inside of his thigh and it made him shudder. He kissed Sherlock again, then, almost sick with nerves, slid his boxers of. He felt Sherlock examine him, he blushed as those grey eyes drank him in. However, as he glanced at Sherlock, he saw the signs of his own erection forming. John smiled and felt more confident with what he was doing.

John reached out and linked his fingers into Sherlock's hand. He then lifted his hand and placed Sherlock's hand on his now aching cock. Sherlock felt a bolt of electricity pass through him. John moaned and Sherlock felt himself become drunk with lust.

'Like this' He whispered and with his own hand showed Sherlock how he wanted to be touched. Sherlock closed his eyes, crushed his lips to John's and then began to stroke. First, with awkward clumsy movements then when he heard John groan with appreciated he speeded up and settled into a rhythm. The noises John was making were so erotic they caused Sherlock to become even more aroused, if that was possible. John was beautiful. John was his.

'Fuck, Sherlock, I'm going to come' He groaned, Sherlock began to pump faster. John came hard. Sherlock felt a hot sticky mess cover his hand.

'Was that ok?' He reached for a box of tissues that sat of the coffee table and began to mop up the mess John had made. When he was finished John pulled his boxers back up.

'That was brilliant Sherlock.' He kissed Sherlock, trying to show his appreciation. 'Surprised you didn't use your massive intellect to deduce how much I liked that by all the noise I was making' They both laughed, the mood lightened. Sherlock nuzzled into John's neck. John kissed the top of his head.

'Can I see you? Properly I mean?' John asked. He bit his lip, wondering if he had taken things too far.

Instead Sherlock nodded. He got up of the sofa and stood in front of John. He took of his suit jacket. Then his shirt, then shoes, then undid his belt and his trousers, then his boxers. Normally he would hate to see his clothes in a crumpled mess, but this time, all he could think of was John.

'Your beautiful' John was awestruck at Sherlock's pale skin, he had hardly any fat and was lean and toned. John guessed it was all the running around London. Sherlock had never felt so exposed and venerable.

John got up and nibbled on Sherlock's shoulder. Then he took his hand and led him to the rug by the fireplace.

'Lie down' he instructed.

Sherlock did as he was told, lying down by the heat staring into the fire. John lay on top of him and kissed down his chest, then flicked a tongue inside his belly button. John rubbed his hands on the inside of his thigh and kissed Sherlock's legs. Sherlock closed his eyes and groaned as John licked his cock. He felt his hips buck as John swirled his tongue around the tip and moaned as John took him in his mouth. Sherlock couldn't help but moan as John began to work on him. Licking and sucking. He wouldn't last long. He felt his stomach muscles contract as John fondled one of his balls. Soon he was coming hard in John's mouth.

John swallowed every drop of him. Sherlock lay there trying to process these new feelings he was experiencing.

'I think I'm in love with you John'

'I think I'm in love with you to Sherlock'

John grabbed a blanket that lay on a chair. He wrapped them both up in it and felt Sherlock nuzzle into him. They melted into each other and fell asleep by the fireplace.


	11. Chapter 11

**This is just a filler chapter, will update properly later. **

* * *

Spending the night on the floor meant that when Sherlock woke his limbs were stiff and uncomfortable. Sherlock got up of the floor, slipped his boxers on and went to boil the kettle. Stretching his arms he tried to get rid of the crook in his neck. He ached slightly, but it was a good ache. Now he had woken up properly all the memories of the night before came flooding back. Mycroft was right, as much as he hated to admit it. Now he had achieved some form of sexual gratification, he felt part of the human race. He stared at John, the London mourning was pouring into the flat. He wanted to kiss John again, he wanted to touch John again, and he wanted John to touch him. Like with everything he did, he wanted to master it, to become really really good. Remembering last night made had made him hard. His body craved John.

John stirred and Sherlock bent down and poked him in the belly. He opened his eyelids slowly and smiled at Sherlock. He stretched and Sherlock pounced, kissing him, running his hands through his hair. John, who was not used to being woken up by a horny Sherlock. He felt Sherlock's hands and mouth all over him, kissing and stroking. He was about to ask him to slow down as he had only just woken up, but then he felt Sherlock's hand slip underneath his boxers and he didn't feel like complaining anymore. He felt his boxers being pulled down and Sherlock's take him in his mouth. Like the night before, it started of clumsily, but Sherlock soon got the hang of it and soon John was moaning in pleasure. He couldn't believe that that mouth, which was normally used to insult and all manner of amazing things, was now being used to being him to orgasm. He came and Sherlock drank all of him.

'Morning John' Sherlock leapt to his feet and ran to the kettle. He set about making some tea. John felt flushed and rearranged his clothes. He stood up, stretched and then collapsed on the sofa. He wondered if he should have invited Sherlock to his room last night instead of sleeping on the rug in front of the fireplace, but he liked the idea of having his own private space.

Sherlock came in with two steaming mugs of tea, he sat next to John and they entwined together so it was impossible to tell whose limbs belonged to whom.

* * *

The day passed by lazily. Sherlock read a book while John flicked through the job section of the paper. He played with Sherlock's curls and then noticed a job that had been circled. It was for a local surgery that needed a new doctor.

'This one you have circled looks interesting, maybe I should send them my CV?'

'No need, I have already done it. You have an interview next week. Remember to iron your shirt' John rolled his eyes. He should feel that this was horribly presumptive of Sherlock, but, this was Sherlock, he was showing he cared in his own weirdly twisted way.

Because Sherlock told him the case was solved, they just had to wait till Friday, he promised John he would eat something. So they ordered a takeaway. When they ate the food John tried to watch a film that was being shown. However five minutes in Sherlock proclaimed it 'boring' and then tried to steal the remote. John was having none of it, soon they were wrestling on the sofa. Sherlock decided the best thing to do was to tickle John and hope that the pain was cause him to give up the remote. He pinned John between his legs and started to tickle him. John laughed and gasped for breath.

Sherlock leaned forward and kissed John. John ran a hand over the inside of Sherlock's thigh.

'What do we do now Sherlock?'

He smiled a crooked smile. He reached out to John's hand, he pulled it to his mouth and kissed his finger tips.

'We stay here John, we stay inside till somebody finds us'

* * *

John had a long bath in the evening, sex still played on his mind. He decided that tomorrow he would go to the chemists and buy some condoms and lube. He wanted to be prepared but he knew not to push anything till Sherlock was ready. He seemed so keen this morning but there was a major difference between kissing and touching and full on sex. He would wait, Sherlock was worth the wait.

After his bath he kissed Sherlock goodnight and then went to bed. He tossed and turned but couldn't get to sleep, he checked the clock and it said it was three am. John groaned. He got up out of bed and crept up the stairs to Sherlock's room. He expected his flatmate to be up, as he usually was. Instead he found him sleeping. John crawled into his bed and cuddled up beside him, finally able to sleep.

The next few days passed by much the same. John went down Sherlock a few times but made sure not to pressure him into anything more. There was now a condom in his wallet and a bottle of lube in his bedroom drawer for when he was ready.

On Friday he kept glancing at the clock. John had never seen Sherlock so on edge.

'Can you stop pacing round the flat, you are making me nervous'

'Good, you should be nervous'

Sherlock wanted to get involved but Lestrade said, for once, he would be fine without him. They had Sam who would be wearing a wire. It was simple, Sam would go into the flat, the exchange would happen, Sam would leave then the police would swarm in and arrest Adams. It was so simple that Sherlock assumed something must go wrong. It was Scotland yard after all. Sherlock was surprised they could do anything without him.

Lestrade called Sherlock that evening to tell him Adams had been arrested. Sherlock immediately wanted to go to the yard but Lestrade told him he could question Adams the next day.

This did nothing to calm Sherlock down.

'Something is wrong John, I'm not sure what it is, something isn't right I can feel it'


	12. Chapter 12

Neither slept well that night. Both slept in their own beds. John felt so alone without Sherlock sleeping beside him, he was so used to having Sherlock there now, without him it felt like he had lost a limb, he could only feel a sense of panic. He didn't know where he stood with Sherlock now, it was if he was in no man's land, couldn't find his way back and any wrong move he would get blown to bits.

Sherlock lay in bed and stared at the blank white ceiling. He was missing something but what, he wasn't used to this feeling of uncertainty. He was Sherlock Holmes, he knew everything. This case was so simple, the answer was right there. So why couldn't he figure it out? What was he missing?

Whatever it was, why couldn't he figure it out? He was Sherlock Holmes for crying out loud.

* * *

The next day, Sherlock was pulling on his coat when Lestrade ran through the door. John made a mental note to ask Lestrade, that from now on, it was probably best if he knocked before coming in.

'The Adam's arrest was without a hitch. He is being questioned right now, reckon we have enough on him for a conviction'

'And you could have texted me this. Yet you are here, something is wrong'

'Another body has been found, same building as Coyle's. She was killed last night, when Adam's was in police custody. So either there were two murderer's striking in the same place or'

'Adam's is innocent' Sherlock interrupted.

'It could be a different man' John asked. Lestrade shook his head.

'You'll see when we get there, the crime scene, it's identical to Coyle's. Its the same guy Sherlock I know it. It wasn't Adams.'

'I need to see the murder scene' Sherlock was already running down the stairs, Lestrade and John following behind.

* * *

'Natalie Peirce. Husband is out of town for the week. Found strangled in the bedroom just like Coyle' Lestrade informed them as they stood outside the flat.

Walking in Sherlock was struck by just how similar the crime scene looked, Lestrade was right, they were identical. Breakfast had been laid out. Remains of dinner on the side. Body in the same only difference was that Peirce's flat looked lived in. It did not have the same impersonal, hotel room feel that Coyle's did.

'It's the same man. Whoever killed Coyle killed her.' Sherlock paced around. Looking at the body, looking round the flat.

'She had sex last night, possibly having an affair... She didn't know Coyle personally... Coyle didn't socialise with anyone. ...We are missing something, something important.'

* * *

Sherlock spent the entire day in the sofa. Head resting on his hands, nicotine patches littered his arms. Sherlock didn't speak to John all day, he tried to curl up next to Sherlock but he resisted. He tensed up at his very touch.

'I can't think John'

'You'll figure it out. You always do, Adam's was a logical suspect'

Sherlock threw his hands up in the air 'That's the thing John, I am supposed to go beyond logic, Lestrade would think it was Adams, and Lestrade is an idiot'

He hauled himself off the sofa and walked over to the window. Leaning his arm against it.

'I can't think John, I've missed something. I never miss anything. This is the first time, my brain has been clouded, and it's never clouded, not until this stupid infatuation.' Sherlock managed to stop himself. He held back and bit his tongue.

John walked over to where Sherlock was standing, squared up to him, 'Go on, say it, it wasn't till you started having feelings for me. That's what you meant to say isn't it. What because you have feelings for me you can't do the work'.

'You take up too much room in my brain John. I can't spare any thinking power.'

'Wait so this is my fault? You missed something because you were too busy thinking about me and you?' John was getting hysterical now, Sherlock just stood there. No emotion in his face whatsoever except pure contempt for John.

'There is no you and me John' He said in a cold, clinical voice.

'You cold hearted bastard' John was fighting back tears now. 'I get it now, you had time between cases, you were bored, Mrs Hudson wouldn't let you shoot holes in her walls so you decided to see if you could fuck John Watson. Then a new case came along and god forbid if anything got in the way of your work'

'My life is the work John. How many times do I have to tell you this? There is no room for anything else' Again he kept his voice calm and low.

'Well I hope you and your work are very happy together.' He grabbed his coat and stormed out of the flat.

* * *

**Right, I'm just of to find myself a nice hiding spot. Again I will leave it there. Updates will be as soon as I can so keep your eyes peeled. xxxxx**


	13. Chapter 13

A normal person who had just seen his almost boyfriend storm out of their flat would be upset, but Sherlock was no normal man. Instead all he could think of was the case. When he thought of John he tried to dismiss the part of him that did feel loss and regret. He was the world's only consulting detective, he couldn't have a boyfriend. It was best John knew that now. It was better in the long run. He was a solitary man, he always had been and he always will be.

* * *

John paced around the cold London streets. It was dark, he wanted to go inside and get warm but he couldn't think of anywhere to go. He saw a car follow him for a while but he was in no mood to talk to Mycroft so he darted into some side streets trying to lose him. He eventually found himself outside a pub called the Black Swan. He sighed and walked in, drinking himself silly in a quiet corner was all he wanted to do right now.

He walked inside the gloomy pub and bought a beer, setting down in a table at the back he nursed it. He tried to figure out what he was going to do. Harry seemed like the only available option, it's not like he could go back to Sherlock, he wasn't even sure he even wanted to. He felt so stupid and disappointed with himself. Sherlock had spent his entire life devoted to his work, ignoring any sort of human relationship, what made him think a few blowjobs would change all this? He should have learnt ages ago that he would never come first, in fact he was wrong to assume Sherlock would even think of him at all.

John looked around, it was jammed, full of people having a good time, he hoped he would be ignored. Great, he was one of those weirdo's who sat alone drinking in pubs.

'Seats not taken is it?' A friendly voice asked him out of the babble.

'Go ahead' John gestured miserably.

'Tough day?' Any hoped that he would be ignored soon vanished. He suddenly realised the guy speaking was George Sparks, the translator he had bumped into outside Coyle's flat. He smiled weakly.

'Let me guess. Two words, first word begins with S' He laughed.

'Something like that'

'I know how you feel mate, my wife left me a few weeks back, so it looks like you and I could both do with cheering up. Next rounds on me'

George proved quite an easy guy to talk to and John was glad to have some company. George didn't mind hearing John moan about Sherlock, and John tried to comfort him when he was telling him all about his wife Anna, who had run of with some guy she had met. After that they just talked about ordinary things, after living with Sherlock for so long he had forgotten just how nice it was to have an ordinary conversation with someone.

It was getting late and John heard the bell being rung for last orders.

'Better be heading home' John drained the last of his beer.

'Thought you were going to your sisters' George asked.

'Yeah, I had planned to, it's a bit late to just turn up on her doorstep' John looked at his watch even though her was perfectly aware of what time it was.

'Listen John, stay at mine, you can sleep on my sofa and we'll sort everything out in the morning.' George lightly punched John's arm playfully.

George drove them back to his flat, somewhere in London, John was too drunk to tell where they were going. He had drunk far too much. They walked inside and he collapsed on George's sofa.

'Here drink this or you will feel like hell in the morning' He was handed a glass of water. John's mouth tasted awful so when he drank the water he got a really bitter taste in his mouth. He was going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning he could tell. Taking his trousers of he was handed a spare duvet by George.

'Night John'

'Night...Sherlock' John closed his eyes and went to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Again thank you for the reviews. A word of warning things are about to get very dark *runs back to hiding place* xx**

* * *

Lestrade yawned, he was tired and irritable. He had not had his morning coffee yet and his brain was crying out for nicotine. Smoking patches was just not the same.

Sherlock came bounding into his office, as usual he didn't look like he had slept, or eaten or done anything except sit and think.

'The wedding ring' He panted.

'I'm sorry' Lestrade was confused, what did someone's wedding ring have to do with any of this?

'Natalie Peirce, was she wearing her wedding ring?' Sherlock sat of a chair. Lestrade flicked through a couple of crime scene photos that lay on his desk.

'Yes. She was'

Sherlock leapt up in the air. 'She had sex but she wasn't having an affair, if she was she would have taken her wedding ring of. How could I have been so stupid, oh he is clever, really clever'

'Sherlock where are you going with this?'

Sherlock grabbed his shoulders 'Don't you see, it happened on Valentine's Day, that's what I missed. I was overlooking something and it was Valentine's Day.'

'Erm ok, care to explain to those who are not high functioning sociopaths' Lestrade hated Sherlock's look that he gave him, as if he was expected to keep up.

'This crime, it's not to do with trafficking or revenge, it's love Lestrade, this crime is a crime of love. When we first walked into the crime scene it looked like a date, that's because it was. Coyle was a loner and Peirce had her wedding ring on, means that neither wanted the date to happen, they were forced into it. He forced them to be his date for the evening and in the morning he killed them'

'So...' Lestrade was really confused now.

'The killer is living out a fantasy, he stalked Coyle, knew her life inside out so he knows exactly what to say to get into her flat, he drugged her and when she came round they played his game'

Lestrade scrunched his face up 'Why would he do that'

'Valentine's Day, time of year where everyone is reminded of their relationship status, probably hates being single, feels lonely. Wants a girlfriend desperately but couldn't get one because he is a psychopath. Combine that with a desire to kill and there you have it, dead pretend girlfriend'

'Ok , why did Coyle let him?'

'She couldn't run away so she stayed, played along because she thought that was her best chance of staying alive. she found her phone gone and the door locked, she couldn't get out or call for help, he was probably armed, threatened her. He forced her into being his girlfriend for the evening. Don't you see, the dinner, breakfast everything.'

'And Lopez?'

'Lopez saw something, blackmailed him so she was killed, we arrest Adam's so he thinks he has got away with it. Hence why he murdered again'

'Ok, that's Coyle and Lopez but what about Peirce?'

'She lived and in the same building as Coyle. That's how he chose her. While he was stalking Coyle he must have watched the building, learnt about her to.'

Sherlock ran around Lestrade's office scattering case files. He glanced at the morning papers and his eyes lit up.

'Adams arrest, has it been reported?'

'I'm doing as statement today. Should mean it will be in the papers tomorrow.'

Sherlock took a deeply inhaled 'He knew. He knew we would arrest Adams. That's why he chose Coyle, he knew we would think it was Adams. He knew she was obsessed with Adams. 'He then clapped his hands together 'He's made a mistake, we have a mistake' Lestrade noticed Sherlock wasn't looking at him.

'I am still here you know'

'Don't you see, don't you see! He killed Peirce because he thought he had got away with it, knew he had reached Lopez in time because we arrested Adams, that's why he killed again, but there was no way he could have known Adams would have been arrested because it hasn't been reported yet, unless...'

Lestrade smiled 'So, we are looking for someone who is close to the police and with Coyle and knew she had an unhealthy obsession with the Adam's case.'

Sherlock sprinted of, where to Lestrade, as usual, had no idea.

* * *

Sherlock caught a taxi back to Baker St. John had stayed out all night, he didn't like not knowing where John was. He tried ringing John's phone but yet again there was no answer. He knocked on Mrs Hudson's door. John wouldn't come back to their flat, had nowhere else to go so he assumed he slept of Mrs Hudson's sofa.

'Hello dear'

'John, where is John?'

'Sorry dear I haven't seen him' At first Sherlock thought she was lying, but she did not have that twitch in her left eye whenever she did lie, and he could clearly see the sofa had not been slept on.

He tried Mycroft. He had surveillance on him after all.

_Have not seen him since yesterday morning MH_

Sherlock assumed John had gone to his sisters after all.

_I need you to find Harry Watson SH_

Sherlock put his mind back on the case.


	15. Chapter 15

John woke up the next day with a headache and a very strange taste in his mouth. He glanced at the clock and realised it was late afternoon, he must have drunk much more then he thought he had if he had slept all day. He got up of the sofa but felt sick and dizzy so immediately sat back down again. He decided to slip out quietly, he didn't want to speak to George, he didn't want to have a hangover, post night, are you sure your feeling all right conversation with him. He'd rather just go. Pulling on his jeans he walked out of the sitting room, down the hallway and to the front door, it was locked. That was strange. There was no key there either. John searched around his pockets for his phone but that was missing to.

'You're awake' He heard George call behind him. He was beaming at John.

'Listen George, thanks for letting me stay but, I think I'm just going to go' John tried the door again, just in case he was imagining things. Again it was locked.

'Would you like some tea?' He offered. Something wasn't right, John felt on edge. George wasn't paying attention to what he was saying. His smile was so toothy and fake it looked creepy. Like the fake smile air stewardesses gave him whenever he went on a long haul flight. Smiling at you like you were there best friend, when secretly they wanted nothing more than to throw the shitty food all over your lap. He kept pushing at the door trying to get it to open.

John was getting frantic now, he breathed deeply, trying to calm down, and he also tried to find his best army voice. 'Let me go George'

'I'll stick the kettle on'. John followed George into the kitchen.

'I don't know what you're playing at but I want to get out of here.'

'And go where John? Where will you go? Hmm. Back to Sherlock? The man who is too busy fighting crime to be in a relationship? The man who won't even let you fuck him? Don't worry love, you have me now.'

John was angry, he wanted to know how George knew all this. He was about to go for him when he realised he was holding a pistol in his right hand. He pointed it at John,

'I won't ask again John, sit down'

John had no choice. He sat down and watched George make him tea.

'What do you want? You have me here for a reason. I want to know what it is' John decided the best thing to do was to keep calm, try and talk to him, maybe if he found out why he could convince him to let him go. Make him see sense.

'Thought we could have an evening in. I'll cook something nice for dinner and we can relax, have a few glasses of wine, watch telly, that would be nice don't you think?'

What was going on? John felt his head spin.

'George, what are you talking about?' He tried to sound calm but he felt his voice break. His blood was running cold in his veins.

There was a pause as the kettle boiled, George made the tea and handed a mug

'Drink up' He smiled. John pretended to take a sip, he decided not to drink anything George gave him, concluding that the water he was given last night had probably been drugged, he had been too drunk to properly notice the strange taste.

'You should relax John, make yourself comfy. You look so on edge love'

Love, why was he calling him love? John felt horrified as George cupped his cheek.

'Don't you see John, me and you we belong together. I've been watching you for a while now, ever since I saw you outside Coyle's flat. I know everything about you John, watching and waiting' He sounded so calm, as if this was perfectly normal behaviour, as if John should be pleased that he had gone to these lengths for him.

'That car last night, the one that was following me, that was you wasn't it?' George smiled and laughed.

'I was going to wait a bit longer, don't like being rushed you see, but Sherlock, he helped hurry things along, and I just couldn't resist. He didn't want you, he let you go so you're mine now John' He crashed their lips together, holding John in place with an iron grip. John tried to fight but he wasn't strong enough, George kissed so hard John felt him nip at his lip and he could taste blood. George tried to push his tongue in but John kept his mouth firmly closed.

'Now John I was hoping you would be a bit more responsive. I guess we will just have to work on that.' He kept his hand on John's cheek. It made John's skin crawl.

'Work on it? What do you mean? How long are you planning on keeping me here?'

'Don't you see John, I'll keep you here as long as I want. You're my boyfriend now. Isn't that nice' John felt sick.

'Now that I found I'm not letting you go, we belong together, don't you see?' He almost sang, his hands clasped together in glee.

'You won't get away with this'

'I think you'll find I already have. Who is going to stop me? The police? They are useless John surely you know that by now. I have already gotten away with so much and the police are not even close to the truth'

'Sherlock. Sherlock will find me' John wasn't sure who he was trying to convince, George or himself.

This made George laugh out loud 'Sherlock, you have such faith in him, but he doesn't want you John. Besides, you think Sherlock is so clever but he isn't. He wasn't clever enough to catch me, going on a wild goose chase over Adams.

Suddenly everything fell into place.

'It was you, you killed those women.'

George clapped 'Took you long enough' he rolled his eyes. John had had enough, he decided to make a break for it. How he had no idea. The flat was on the top floor so jumping to safety was out of the question. He needed the key, wherever that was. He decided the best thing to do was to keep talking.

'But why? Why did you kill Coyle?'

'Wife left me like I told you, I just wanted some company John. Thought I could replace Anna easily. She's a tough act to follow though I give her that. Met Georgina while working on the Adams case. That didn't work out, decided she was the wrong one for me. Then there was Lopez, after watching Coyle die, squeezing the life out of her I had the sudden urge to do it again, when I was interviewing her I wanted to see the light disappear from her eyes. While I was stalking Coyle I spent a lot of time watching this building. I found Peirce, she intrigued me, thought she was the one, waited till I knew her boyfriend was out of town, shame she had to die to.' He sighed and shook his head, John wondered if he had regretted anything he had done.

'If you are going to kill me, Id rather you just do it now, get it over with'

'John, dear, I'm not going to kill you. No, you are different from the others'

'How do I that?' His eyes darted around the flat, he saw it, the key, on top of the microwave. He needed to distract George and then he could make a run for it. He just had to keep him talking.

'Now now John. I love you. Why would I want to kill you?'


	16. Chapter 16

**Another little filler chapter. Will update properly later. **

* * *

_Harry Watson is on holiday in France with new girlfriend. MH_

Sherlock stood staring at the message he had received from Mycroft. John was missing. He couldn't think of anywhere John could have gone.

He tried his mobile yet again, John didn't answer so he left a message on his answer machine. He just there staring at the message Mycroft had left, he hoped that if he wished hard enough, the letters would somehow change and it would say that John was with her.

He was with Lestrade, they were going over everyone who worked with Coyle on the Adams case, hoping to find someone, anyone who could be a possible suspect.

'You OK Sherlock?' Lestrade asked him. Normally he would shake questions about his emotional state away, except this time, this time was different

'John is missing'

'Missing!'

Sherlock nodded. 'We had a fight, then he stormed out, I haven't seen him since.' To his horror he felt tears prick his eyes.

'I said some things Greg, something's I shouldn't have said' He held in head in his hands.

Lestrade had no idea how to comfort him, he wasn't human after all, he awkwardly put an arm round him.

'Look, he stormed of, he'll calm down and he'll be back, you'll see'

'But where, where could he have gone. He is not with Harry or Mrs Hudson. I don't know what to do, what should I do Greg?'

'He'll come back, he's probably still angry and that's is why he's ignoring you, he'll be fine. He'll turn up tonight and you would have beat yourself up over nothing'

Sherlock shook his head 'He would have rung, he would have answered his phone if only to tell me to piss of' Sherlock pushed the case files away in annoyance, he leapt up out his chair and pulled his coat on'

'Sherlock, where the hell are you going? What about the case' Lestrade couldn't help but raise his voice'

'To hell with the case' Sherlock was defiant 'I need to find John'


	17. Chapter 17

John's eyes kept darting across the room. From George Sparks, to the key on top of the microwave. It was so close. He needed a plan.

'Can I have a cup of tea?' He asked. Asking his kidnapper for a cup of tea? God he was so English. He would have to be quick, it would only stay boiling for so long. If he left the tea to long it wouldn't have the desired effect.

'Of course' George smiled, he placed is hand on John's shoulder and John flinched. 'Anything for you'

While George had his back turned John inched closer to the key, lifting his chair up and moving it across and trying not to make a sound.

'There you go' John was handed a mug. He pretended to take a sip but instead threw the boiling liquid at George. He then grabbed a key from the microwave and ran. He didn't look behind him as he heard George scream in pain. He ran down the hallway almost falling over in sheer fright. He reached the door but heard George run after him. He was so close, his hand trembled as he pushed the key in the lock and turned.

He could have cried when the key broke in the lock, it snapped in half leaving one half jammed in the lock and the top in his hand.

He felt George wrestle him to the ground, pinning him down between his legs, there a sharp pain as he was punched in the jaw.

'I told you John you have to stay' John tasted blood in his mouth. George continued to rain blows down on him.

He stopped hitting him George stayed on top of him, panting. John was in a daze. He felt hot blood running down his face.

'I'm going to go make dinner' He left John lying in a pool of blood.

He must have passed out because the next thing he knew he was being shaken awaken. He opened his eyes and his vision was blurred and there was a massive pain in his head and chest.

George picked him up of the floor and dragged him into the kitchen. A dinner had been laid out. A white tablecloth covered the table and there was a line of candles in the middle. It looked so romantic, there was even mood lighting. He was placed in a chair and handed a plate, he didn't notice what he had been given. He didn't care. Looking round the table as George opened a bottle of red wine. George poured him a glass, John quickly drank it, he wanted to get rid of the pain in his head.

'Someone's thirsty' George laughed. John savoured the light headed feeling the wine gave him.

John tried to get up 'I'm not having dinner with a murderer'

'Now now John' He was poured more wine 'we cannot start our lives together accusing the other of murder' He handed John a fork. 'Eat John, it will go cold.' John began to eat, he was too hungry to deny his body food. He looked out the window at the setting sun. Where was Sherlock? He remembered the threat he had given George. He was so sure that Sherlock would find him and get him the hell out of here. Now he wasn't so sure. If he was going to get out of here it was up to him. George had killed two girls, he knew he would be killed to. They were killed in the morning, he had till the sun came up.


	18. Chapter 18

** Have a free day and I'm in a writing mood so here is yet another update. Enjoy xx Again thank you all for the lovely reviews. **

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'Will you just calm down' Lestrade was halfway down the street trying to calm down a panicked Sherlock, who had grabbed his shoulders.

'When you have a fight with your wife, what do you do?'

'Errr well I go out, have a pint wait till she's calmed down and come home' Lestrade told him quietly hoping no onlookers were listening over his domestic problems.

Sherlock stormed off again. 'There are about five pubs within walking distance of 221B.'

So began their walking tour. Lestrade watched as Sherlock stormed into the first pub The Red Lion, ignoring the queue at the bar, he described John in almost minute detail and showing her a pic on his phone. The barmaid shook her head and without a second word stormed out. They had more luck with the second pub The Black Swan.

'Yeah I remember him, he was here last night' She told him in a thick London accent she carried on cleaning her glass as if this was a daily occurrence.

'Do you know where he went' Lestrade chipped in.

She shook his head 'Left with some guy' She then described a rather generic sounding man.

Lestrade turned to leave he looked back and saw the cogs of Sherlock's brain turn.

'He came here alone though' She nodded. Sherlock went back to his phone showing her something.

'Did he look like this' She nodded and Sherlock ran off, Lestrade thanked the bar maid and ran off after Sherlock.

'Where are you going? Sherlock' He yelled.

Sherlock looked at him with disgust, he obviously hated having to stop and explain when clearly he was in a hurry. 'John's in danger, I know it, if he was safe he would have rung or Mycroft...'

'Danger?' Lestrade interrupted.

'Yes, John leaves with a stranger while we are conducting a murder investigation! Then disappears. The killer we have been looking for, he has John. He needs help, he needs me'

'Ok ok I believe you' Lestrade had known Sherlock for long enough to know that when Sherlock was sure of something it was better to just go with it.

'So where are we going?' He asked as Sherlock was hailing a taxi.

'I recognised a name when we were looking through the list of people working with Coyle. I thought nothing of it until that bar maid described who she saw John leaving with. George Sparks. I remember now he was the translator who interviewed Lopez, and the bar maid recognised him as the man who left with John. It's him. He has John, John's in danger. Unless we are quick John will be the next victim'

The taxi came and they clambered inside. Sherlock told the driver the address and they sped off.

'This Sparks guy. What makes you so sure he is the killer?'

Sherlock looked at him and smiled. 'His address, it's directly opposite the building where the women were murdered'

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**Dun dun dun *dramatic music* You know the drill. :P xx**


	19. Chapter 19

John was sat on the sofa, George playing with his hair, he flinched at his touch. He had to keep George sweet; he had to get out of here. He just wasn't sure how. He originally thought he could just wait around, they couldn't stay in the flat forever, but this line of thinking got Coyle and Peirce killed. There really was no way out, there was no escape. He then he had a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach, he knew he would die in the morning.

George nibbled at his neck. John felt sick, he wanted Sherlock, and his body craved Sherlock. He loved Sherlock; he wished it was Sherlock cuddling him, kissing his neck. He needed Sherlock right now. He wondered how far George would expect him to go. Peirce had had sex before she was killed. She must have been desperate, thought if she played along then she would live. Coyle to, god they must have been terrified. Maybe he would die to; if he was going to die he would rather just get it all over with.

Coyle and Peirce had died, maybe they had given up, but John couldn't. He wanted to live; something was preventing him from simply giving up and accepted his fate, that something was Sherlock Holmes. He had to get back to him, he wouldn't be able to live without him, and how would Sherlock be able to function without him? He wouldn't remember to eat or sleep. He had to get back to Sherlock; he had a reason to live.

'Listen' He leaned forward and tried to get the taxi drivers attention 'can you hurry up'. Sherlock was beyond desperate now, pulling his hair out and grinding his teeth. John was alive; he refused to believe that John had been killed. His John. No, John wouldn't let someone strangle him without a fight.

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'Listen mate' Sherlock leaned foreward and tried to get the taxi driver's attention 'Can you hurry up'

'You're the one who wants to drive through Central London during rush hour. I'm not Moses, going as fast as I can' He chuckled at his own joke.

Sherlock fell back in his seat.

Lestrade pulled out his phone, 'I'm calling for back up he's probably armed'

For the first time in his entire life Sherlock could not think straight.

'He has to be alive, I need him'

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There was no way out, he needed a phone, maybe if he had the gun. How would he get to that? He looked round for it but couldn't see it. He guessed it was on George's person somewhere. He looked George up and down and saw it placed in the waistband of his trousers. Ok, so he needed to distract him and go for the gun but how? He was an army boy, he could do this.

An idea struck him, it made him feel sick but he couldn't think of anything else. He would just have to try. He turned to George and slipped an arm round him, George cuddled into him, and then John crashed their lips together. He flinched but he had to make it seem real or George would guess something was amiss. Just pretend it was Sherlock he thought to himself, he kissed George and pushed his body against him. George groaned but kissed him back. John put a hand on George's chest, hoping George would think he was coming on to him. Clearly his plan was working as George let out a small moan.

With one swift movement, he reached George's gun and grabbed it. George was in such a daze from the kiss he barely noticed what John was doing. He grabbed John's hand yanked it away and then stood up. John had never seen anger like it. He pointed the gun at John.

'Tell me you love me John'

'No' John said defiantly. He didn't care anymore; he knew he was going to die so he refused to play his games.

George pushed John back onto the sofa then John felt his hands round his neck, squeezing the life out of him. This is it John thought, I am going to die. John felt his world go black, the last thing he thought of before he passed out entirely, was Sherlock's face.


	20. Chapter 20

Sherlock tried to run into the building but he was held back by Lestrade.

'Sherlock don't go running in there, he is probably armed, it's not safe'

'I don't give a shit about what's safe, John needs me. I don't have time for this' He tried to wrestle out of Lestrade's grip.

'I'm not letting you go in there alone.'

In the distance Sherlock heard the sound of sirens. He saw the police van stop in the middle of the road and out came heavily armed officers.

Lestrade turned to Sherlock and raised his eyebrows, Sherlock threw his arms up in the air 'Fine we'll do it your way'

They all ran up the stairs, Sherlock first, the police following after him. He took the stairs two at a time, finally finding Spark's door but it was locked. He waited for the police to catch him up, cursing under his breath that they were not as quick as him, he would have to wait for them to break the door down. This was taking too much time.

When the police finally caught up with him he moved out of the way while they knocked down the door, he still made sure he was first into the flat. There was lots of shouting and he heard himself yelling Spark's name. He found him in the living room, George hovering over John, at first Sherlock feared the worse. That they were too late and John was dead, however he saw his chest very faintly move. John was alive.

He flung himself at George showering punches, he had never been so angry.

'Get your fucking hands of my boyfriend' he yelled at Sparks. Lestrade had to drag him of him.

'Calm down man, let me handle this.' He tried to sooth Sherlock as if he was an angry toddler. 'John, go be with John he needs you.'

Sherlock crouched down beside John's body, he cupped his face and saw his eyes flicker open.

'Sherlock, you found me, I knew you would' Sherlock kissed him on the forehead.

'Of course I did, remember I am Sherlock bloody Holmes'

Lestrade closed the door of the police van where he had put Sparks. Another case closed thanks to Sherlock Holmes, his ego was going to be unbearable. He found John and Sherlock standing outside, both wrapped up in a blanket. Sherlock with his arms round John refusing to let anyone close. They had asked John if he fancied going to the hospital but John replied that he would rather just go home back to 221B. Lestrade doubted Sherlock would let any doctors even touch John.

He watched as the pair entwined their hands together. 'So you two eh' He laughed 'Took you long enough.'

Sherlock Holmes had a boyfriend, as if he wasn't unbearable enough already.

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**Just one more chapter to go. Hope you like it xxx**


	21. Chapter 21

**Well here it is, the very last chapter. Thank you for all the reviews and the support and just being lovely. Heart haribo sweets for you all! I hope you like it, Its very very cheesy eeeek I'm thinking of making a sequel, just because I love writing Sherlock and John. What do you think? Anyhoo I hope you like this chapter. xxxxxxxxxxxxx**

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John took of his clothes and put on a pair of comfy pyjamas. An old T shirt and his boxers was what he always chose to sleep in. He slipped under the sheets. He closed his eyes, despite being exhausted he knew he would not sleep. He heard the faint sounds of footsteps pacing outside his door.

'You can come in Sherlock'. John sat up in bed as his flatmate tentatively opened the door.

'I made you a cup of tea. But then I wasn't sure if you wanted company. I knew you were awake, I didn't want to bother you' John got up out of bed and slipped on his dressing gown. He moved to the door and came face to face with Sherlock. John took the cup from Sherlock's hands, it was stone cold.

'Come, I think we could both do with a cup, after the day we have just had'

John set about making them both making a cup of tea. He got out two mugs and opened the jar of tea bags.

He felt Sherlock's hands on his shoulders, it took him all the energy in the world to turn around.

'You're still here. I thought you were going to die. We all did. Even Lestrade. I thought I would never see you again.' Sherlock began to run his hands all over John's body as if proving to himself that yes, John was real, his eyes glistened with tears.

'You lived, why did you live and not the others?'

'They gave up Sherlock. They believed they were going to die, so they did, I never gave up hope that I would get out of there I forced myself to stay alive.'

'Yes but why?'

'It's what I do Sherlock. When I was shot, when he had me trapped in that godforsaken flat. Both times I forced myself to stay alive. It's what I do. I had to stay alive, so I carried on.'

'Why John? Why did you have to stay alive?' Sherlock reached out a hand and cupped John's cheek. 'Normal, average John, no different from anyone else, yet you lived. You had to get out of there. You had something to get out of there for something. Someone. You had what the others did not.'

The penny dropped and John understood what Sherlock was trying to tell him. They were both trying to hide their tears now. A mixture of relief at what they had just been through, and overwhelmed by the emotions of what they both knew what was to come.

John reached out and lightly held Sherlock's arms, sliding down to meet Sherlock's hands.

'You. I had to get back to you Sherlock.'

Sherlock nodded, the same nod he gave whenever John figured something out for himself. He took John's hand, placing the other above his heart.

'It's yours'

'I thought the great Sherlock Holmes had been reliably informed he didn't have a heart?' John teased.

'I didn't, then you came along. I only think it started beating when I saw your face'

They stood there. Perfectly still for moments. The kettle boiled, they ignored it. They ignored everything. The world outside of 221B Baker's street simply didn't exist.

'Show me' Sherlock bit his lip, immediately regretting what he said. He had asked too much, taken things too far.

To his surprise John nodded. Leaving Sherlock's embrace. He slowly pulled of his dressing gown and folded it over a dining chair. He then pulled his T shirt over his head and stood there, perfectly still. He couldn't look Sherlock in the eye, he screwed his eyes shut and hoped it would all be over quickly.

The gunshot had left a scar. There was a clear hole where the bullet had entered the shoulder and around it was raised damaged flesh.

He could see Sherlock examining the wound, deducing what was type of weapon had made the shot, who could have likely shot him. How far away he was, everything. What he wasn't expecting was what happened next. Sherlock leaned forward and kissed the wound. A light, tender kiss, It reminded John of the type of kiss his mother had given him after putting a plaster on his childhood scrapes.

'It's ugly'

'It's beautiful.'

Then he kissed up John neck, finding a pulse point and making him shiver. Along the jawline and finally finding his mouth. They savoured the kiss for a few moments before it deepened. They began to kiss with almost brute force, Sherlock almost drew blood.

'I need you John, inside me. Now' He grabbed John's hands.

'Sure you're ready?' John asked, he didn't want to rush anything.

'I'm sure' He kissed John again, they walked in silence up the stairs. John took Sherlock's trembling hand and led him to the bed.

'If it gets too much, just tell me' John tried to reassure Sherlock, Sherlock just laughed.

'You almost died tonight and you are trying to comfort me' John shut him up with a kiss. The kiss was deep, Sherlock was certain John was trying to swallow his head. Sherlock pulled away then led a path of kisses over John's jaw line. He then nibbled at his neck leaving marks, he wanted everyone to know that John was his, all his. John played with Sherlock's shirt buttons, he took it off and then undid his belt and took of his trousers. He was already painfully hard and so was John.

John ran his hands all over Sherlock's chest, his nails leaving faint red marks. He took Sherlock's nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue over it till it was a hard bud. He could hear Sherlock moan and then his hips buck as John switched to the right nipple.

Sherlock kissed John everywhere, all over his face, his chest and legs. John kissed him everywhere back. Leaving a trail of light, quick kisses over his legs chest and face. He then pinned him down on the bed clambering over him. They both groaned as John rubbed their erections together. John pulled their boxers down together and threw them on the floor. He opened the draw next to his bed he pulled out a condom and a bottle of lube.

He bit his lip as he saw Sherlock panic. He kissed Sherlock lovingly and ran his hands through his hair.

'Its ok, its ok' He soothed 'I'm not going to hurt you I promise.

Sherlock nodded, 'I want you John, I want you so badly'

John kissed Sherlock's chest and kissed the tip of his cock. He then swirled his tongue over the tip and smiled as Sherlock groaned. He licked the sensitive skin underneath and then took Sherlock in his hand and stroked. He settled into a quick rhythm and soon Sherlock came hard in his hand. After Sherlock came they went back to kissing and petting.

'Ready?'

He picked up Sherlock ankle and kissed the smooth skin.

Sherlock, fed up with his teasing, nodded.

John picked up the bottle of lube and slicked some of the cold liquid over his hand then on Sherlock. He went back to kissing Sherlock, Sherlock forced his tongue in exploring his mouth. With great care and time he inserted a finger, then a second, opening Sherlock up. She moaned and John thought that very sound would make him come. Sherlock opened Sherlock legs and put a pillow under him to get a better angle. He positioned himself. He was so turned on seeing Sherlock so open. He tore open the condom wrapper with his teeth and placed it on himself. Then poured lube over himself. Because it was Sherlock's first time he used more then was necessary. He positioned himself and slowly, little by little pushed himself in. The feeling was indescribable, Sherlock was so tight against him. He stayed very still for a second, getting used to the new feeling before moving.

Sherlock winced in pain at first but eventually the pain subsided and what was left was nothing he had even felt before. John was inside of him, once his body stopped fighting against John his body welcomed him. As if John should have always had been there. John was moving frantically, hips bucking, he moaned and then came hard. It was the best orgasm he had ever had in his life.

Sherlock hated it when John pulled out, his body missed John. They lay there, covered in their own mess but they both were too comfortable and could be bothered to move.

Sherlock nestled into John. They settled down to sleep.

'I love you John'

'I love you too'

John's shoulder never bothered him again.

He, John Watson was in love with Sherlock Holmes. This could only be good


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